


Stray

by Lady_Ganesh



Series: Streamverse [2]
Category: Saiyuki
Genre: AU, Cyberpunk, M/M, Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-06
Updated: 2008-11-06
Packaged: 2017-10-09 06:31:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/84078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Ganesh/pseuds/Lady_Ganesh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Craig met Apollo. So much love to <a href="http://emungere.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://emungere.livejournal.com/"><b>emungere</b></a> for betaing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stray

Police regs dictated using a regulation Avatar in the Stream, which meant that half the people you met there wanted you dead, and the other half demanded you deal with their petty bullshit problems. It was a pain in the ass. Ying just ignored it and wore her own avatar, but Craig wanted the authority that came from the uniform, even if it only came sporadically.

These twerps weren't impressed by it at all. A trio of furries, hanging out in the shadow of the Hermes building and acting as security.

"Look, I just need to talk to Hermes," he said, trying not to lose his patience. "I know I can't do anything to you assholes, and I don't really give a shit. I just--"

"Look," the pink rabbit told him with a voice rough as gravel. "He's a busy man. He--"

"Don't listen to them," someone said. "They don't even work for Hermes, they just hang around here pretending to be cool."

Craig smirked in spite of himself. "And you?"

The avatar that appeared at his left was humanoid; a young man, on the short side, with wide gold eyes and dark hair. He looked Chinese, but in the Stream, that didn't really mean much. "I'm Apollo. I work for him. Look, he's not around right now. I'll tell him you stopped by, okay?"

Craig shook his head. Another roadblock. "Fine," he said, and turned away.

"Hey," Apollo said. "Contact information?"

Craig stopped. The kid had been sincere? "Yeah," he said, calling it into a digicard. He held it out, and the kid took it and looked it over. "Nguyen, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Ever work in Internal Affairs?"

_Shit._ "Maybe. Be seeing you."

When he came out of the Stream, Ying was still in, a wicked smile crossing her beautiful face. Craig wondered, for a moment, what _that_ might mean. Probably she was beating the shit out of somebody. He grinned.

They suited each other, all right. Craig had been knocked down for doing his job too well, and Lin had landed right next to him after she punched a child rapist in the face. Making them the only two cops in the city in the Stream had been a brilliant move; it gave them the appearance of power, without any of the actual benefits, and kept the Stream appropriately marginalized. Everybody 'won.' Craig had to applaud the Commissioner's creativity.

Today was simple, or relatively simple; some asshole trying to get real kids to be part of his virtual kiddie porn empire. Lin was beating her way through the asshole's contact list, pretending to be a pissed-off power user looking for her little sister. If they could pin him down top to bottom-- something that'd be relatively easy to do if he had help from Hermes-- the case would be easy.

But _nothing_ was easy when you worked the Stream. Craig pulled a stick of gum out of his pocket and glumly shoved it into his mouth. He avoided the other officers on the way out of the station; there was no one there he wanted to talk to. He picked up a six-pack and some takeout sushi on his way home. The building was quiet, for a change; just Nine West on the stoop, who looked innocent and pretended not to be selling pot as he walked by. "Get the fuck back in school," Craig threw over his shoulder as he passed. They'd stuck him in here as some kind of urban renewal project; it was a crappy neighborhood, but the rent was cheap, and he'd gotten used to it.

Sylvia was leaning out of her front door. "Someone was up there to see you," she said, shaking her white dreads. "Young kid. Didn't see him coming down."

He nodded his thanks to her and went upstairs.

His apartment door was unlocked. He took his gun out and held it ready.

There was a kid sitting on his couch reading his newspaper. "Hey!" he squeaked when he saw the gun. "Calm down!"

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Craig thundered. "How did you get in?"

"I just want to talk to you!" the kid protested. He dropped the paper.

"Put your hands up and _don't move them,"_ Craig snapped.

"It's _me,"_ the kid said, sticking his hands up. "Apollo. I heard from Hermes." He _did_ look a lot like the kid who'd been in the Stream; a little paler and skinnier, his hair a blond-brown, his eyes a brown so light they were almost amber. Craig pegged him to be in his late teens.

"So you came to my _apartment?"_

The kid kept his face still, like it was the most reasonable thing in the world. "I didn't wanna go to the station."

"You could have _called me."_

"Hermes wanted it to be off the grid."

"Jesus Christ," Craig said, but he put the gun down.

"I didn't know you were gonna pull a gun on me," he said, almost sulking.

"You broke into my fucking _place!_ I'm a cop! What did you expect, a free donut?"

Apollo snickered. "Sorry," he said. "I don't know many people in meatspace. Guess I'm too used to the Stream."

"Whatever," Craig said. He shut the apartment door behind him and sank down into his chair so he could better face Apollo. "So what's your name, kid?"

"I'm not a kid," he said. "And it's Apollo."

Craig shrugged his shoulders. "Have it your way. What do you have?"

"Depends on what you need," Apollo said. "I'm authorized to deliver limited information, pertinent to pending cases only. Hermes wanted a warrant, but I told him that wouldn't happen."

Warrants were rarely granted for the Stream, and wholly unworkable when they _were_ given out due to the vagaries of jurisdiction in an entirely virtual world. "What the hell are you, his lawyer?"

Apollo shrugged. "He doesn't really leave. I'm kind of his link to the real world. Anyway, what do you have?"

Craig took a deep breath. "Some asshole who wants to fuck kids."

"Keep going," Apollo said. "Maybe we can help."

 

"So how'd it go?" Apollo asked. Craig had replaced the doorknob, the deadbolt, and notified his neighbors that the kid was _not_ to be allowed in under any circumstances. The sum total of these efforts was zero. Craig couldn't say he was surprised; while the neighbors tolerated a cop in their building well enough, Apollo's smile was warm and infectious. People took to him the way they'd take to someone else's puppy; they smiled, and were kind, and then pawned him back off on his owner, who had to put up with chewed-up slippers and piss on the carpet.

Craig wanted a cigarette. "It sucked," he said, unbuttoning his uniform shirt and digging out another goddamned stick of gum. "But we got him."

"Why aren't you a detective?" Apollo said. "They said you were sure to be Detective after you brought down Jackson."

"How the hell do you know that?"

Apollo turned his attention to the open window. That was another thing; Craig would come home and all his shades would be up, and half the damn windows open too, despite the summer heat. "All the papers said it."

"Weren't you still in middle school when that went down?"

"I was seventeen." That would put him a couple years older than Craig had guessed. He still wasn't looking at Craig.

"Weird hobby for a high school kid."

"I was in prison," Apollo said. "Life sentence, no parole. Until they-- until you-- found out the whole case was bullshit."

_The Mayes perp._ "Cheng?"

"Yeah," Apollo said. "But it's Apollo now."

No wonder the kid was so good at breaking in; he'd probably picked it up in prison. "And now you work for Hermes."

"Yeah." Apollo drew up his knees. "It's good work. I like it."

"You want Chinese?" Craig said. "I don't feel like cooking."

"Yeah," Apollo said. "That's good."

 

They were almost two months into it before Craig started realizing Apollo was coming around regularly; two or three times a week. Sometimes he brought pizza or Thai; sometimes they ordered out together. They usually split the bill.

Apollo didn't talk any more about where he'd come from. They talked about the Stream, about cases, about Lin and her crazy brother. "When do I get to meet her?" Apollo said.

"I dunno," Craig said. "Surprised she hasn't already knocked your teeth out in the Stream."

"We don't do anything illegal," Apollo said, grabbing another dumpling from the carton.

"Did I say that?"

Apollo smirked. "She could come over some night. Have dinner."

Craig didn't have people over. Craig didn't _go_ over. He'd only seen Lin without her uniform in the Stream. "She's not really the dinner party type," he said, finally.

"I didn't mean a party," Apollo protested. "We're gonna work together, I should meet her, right?"

"Yeah," Craig said. "Sometime." He felt, suddenly, like his life had been adjusted for him. He took the last dumpling out of annoyance.

 

Two weeks later they called him in at three am to interrogate a perp Lin had fingered in the Stream. The guy broke in less than half an hour-- fuck what the others said, he was _good_ at his job-- and Craig walked the asshole back to the tank to wait for the morning shift.

He heard a familiar voice as he walked by the booking room. "Come on," it cajoled. "I told you. I was tired, so I was sleeping in my truck. I've got money for a motel room, right? So just let me out, I'll check in for the night, everybody'll be happy."

"Look, kid," Reynolds said. He was a uniform who worked up on the West side, Craig remembered. "One or two nights is fine, but you've been out there for the better part of a month. Just spend the night here, we'll give you a fine, you can move your shit out in the morning, okay?"

"I'm not a kid," Apollo said, in a tone dangerously close to a whine. "And I--"

Craig rubbed his temples. He was tired enough already. He handed off his suspect and walked over to them; Reynolds was still dicking around with the forms. "The hell are you doing here?"

Apollo's eyes got wide as moons. "Hey," he said. "Um."

"I told you," he said, feeding off his very real irritation, "not to forget the address. It's 341 Meadows, you got it?"

"Yeah," Apollo repeated. "341 Meadows." The terror in his face had just a faint sliver of hope.

"You lose your fucking key, too?"

"No," Apollo said, shaking his head. "No. I can get in." Well, _that_ much, at least, was true.

"You mind?" Craig asked Reynolds. "Save you some paperwork, anyway."

"Nah," Reynolds said, looking in disbelief between Apollo and Craig. "It's. What--"

"Long story," Craig said. "Friend of my cousin's."

"Oh," Reynolds said. "I didn't know you had a--"

"Come on," Craig said. "Let's get the fuck out of here."

 

The first real fall day, Craig got up and showered. Apollo was still sleeping on the futon. Normally he made breakfast, which was pretty much all he could cook, as part of what Craig wrote off as his ongoing bribery to stay in the apartment. He'd been out late the night before, though, doing God only knew what. Craig didn't ask. It was easier that way.

Lin was waiting for him at the diner. "I saved you a donut," she said cheerfully. By his guess, she'd worked her way through close to a dozen. How she stayed skinny, he'd never know. He took the donut. It wasn't bad, though a little deep-fried for his taste. Lin watched him chew.

"We got a good one today," she said. "Tip on a drug dealer who works in the Stream and meatspace. You wanna be in or out?"

"Out," he said, as he almost always did. "You're better in."

She nodded agreement and grabbed another donut. "I like working with you," she said cheerfully. "You're the best."

"If I'm the best, what am I doing busted down here with you?"

She winked at him. "Duh."

She had a point. Craig rubbed his temples.

"Hey, are you gonna finish that donut?"

He handed the rest of it to her, and she stuffed it one-handed into her mouth. She was a pretty girl, but she had the metabolism of a hungry weasel. Craig wondered what her dates thought when they saw her _eat._

"So who's your houseguest, anyway?"

Craig lifted an eyebrow.

"Oh, come on. This is the first time you've had breakfast with me in a week. What's up? New girl or something?"

Craig shook his head. "Roommate. That's all." _Roommate._ Craig guessed it was the best way to describe the kid.

She leaned against the window and started licking powdered sugar off her fingers. "This is so _lame._ They know we're not doing anything that _means_ anything. They don't _want_ us to. Why are we doing this?"

"Because," Craig said. "It's our fucking job."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. But it's boring. And nobody cares."

"We care."

"Nobody else does," she said quietly.

"Fuck them," he said.

 

Apollo was Streamed out when he got back to his apartment at the end of the day, stripped down to his boxers with his laptop balanced on the back of the futon.

Watching people Stream was a little like seeing people in a deep sleep, but with a weird, unnatural feel to it that always made Craig a little uncomfortable.

Craig sat down and watched him. He wanted to kick him in the side just to see how he'd react, but instead he grabbed the paper and his glasses. He read for half an hour before Apollo came to, pulling out of the Stream with a thick gasp. He opened his eyes and looked at Craig. "Hey," he said. "You're early."

"You're late," Craig said. "You want takeout?"

"Nah," Apollo said. "Bonaparte's been teaching me how to make spaghetti."

Craig raised an eyebrow.

"Shut up," Apollo said, swinging his legs over the edge of the futon. "I'm gonna be a good cook."

Craig snorted and put the paper down. "Being a good eater doesn't make you a good cook."

Apollo got up, ignoring him.

 

People always lost their brains with the first real snowfall. Kids who thought they were immortal, newbies who didn't know how to drive in the shit, arrogant idiots in 4-wheel drives apparently incapable of yielding the right of way. Anyone not working a live case got pulled off duty and onto traffic, which meant Craig was cold and wet and pissed when he finally got home.

None of the lights were on. Craig frowned. Usually Apollo would be sitting in the living room, giving him shit about being back late. It felt....

It felt wrong.

Craig had lived alone since he was in high school and the old man had died. Alone was supposed to be _normal._ Alone wasn't supposed to feel _wrong._ He pulled his jacket and boots off, shaking the snow free, and turned on the living room light. Apollo's laptop was still there, though it was powered down. It was...reassuring.

What the hell was _wrong_ with him?

He found Apollo in the bedroom, sitting on the side of the bed facing the window. The snow was still falling, and Craig could see the lines of condensation where he'd traced patterns on the window.

Craig sat down beside him.

Apollo didn't say anything for a long time. Craig could feel his warmth; he'd sat too close, but he didn't want to move. Moving would change things he didn't want changed.

"You were late," Apollo said.

"Traffic duty," Craig said. "Fucking snow."

Apollo nodded. He bit his lower lip; he did that when he was nervous. When had Craig learned that?

"I met Hermes when they were trying to figure out what to do with me," he said. His knees were pulled up by his face. "I'd almost aged out, so they stuck me in transition. They had vocational programs, and I got my GED, and they had the Stream. For recreation. His dad had money, and he had a nice setup. He told me he'd get me work. And...."

He took a deep breath. "I don't even know how his dad found out. Hermes says it wasn't me, but I don't know. He uploaded every night, and he didn't tell me. Just in case he didn't wake up the next morning."

Craig shifted his weight and felt the bedsprings creak. "And then he didn't wake up."

Apollo nodded. "I didn't find out for two weeks." He rested his face against his knees. "He says I should have somebody on the outside. He says ... I didn't listen. I didn't care."

_Why are you telling me this?_ Craig wanted to say. He kept watching instead.

"I like you," Apollo said. "I like you a lot."

"You're a kid," Craig said. He could smell Apollo from this close; soap, deodorant, a little sweat. _I'm thirty-one,_ he reminded himself.

"They used to say that in prison, too," Apollo said. "Never stopped them."

Craig felt his stomach turn over.

"I think I better go," Apollo said. "I think it'll be easier."

Craig put his hand on Apollo's arm. It felt warm. Apollo lifted his head up.

Craig kissed him, kissed him hard, hard enough that he wouldn't have time to tell himself this was a bad idea, hard enough that he couldn't pretend it didn't happen. Apollo went slack against him, his arms snaking against Craig and pulling them both down against the bed. "God," Apollo said when they came up for air, opening his legs and letting Craig's body in closer. "You feel so fucking good."

"Don't talk," Craig said. If Apollo started talking he'd have to start _thinking_ again. No more thinking. When had thinking ever done him any good? If he'd thought less, he'd probably be Captain by now.

When it was over, Apollo reached over and stroked his hair. Craig turned his face away, but he didn't move his head.

"I think," Apollo said, almost dreamily, "Hermes wanted me to meet somebody nice."

Craig snorted with laughter.

 

Not much changed, really. Ying started coming over every so often for dinner. Her brother continued trying to save the world by being a self-righteous asshole. Bonaparte continued to be that strange, benign crazy Craig'd gotten used to, and for some reason he and Apollo kept _bonding._ It was endearing, in the same way the little hairs all standing up on the back of your neck was endearing.

Hermes continued to be a mystery, which was fine by Craig. He didn't want to know too much. He didn't want to care.

Bonaparte taught Apollo how to cook pasta and soups. Apollo wanted to learn baking the most, but Bonaparte insisted that Apollo get more basics down before "learning a skill that requires quite so much patience."

Craig learned to give better blowjobs than he ever thought anyone could give. They started buying huge bottles of lube. They got tested so they wouldn't have to use condoms; anyone else Apollo was fucking wasn't on this physical plane, anyway.

"I had syphillis once," Apollo said. "I was afraid I was gonna get AIDS too."

He said it as casually as he'd talked about his dinner plans, though with far less enthusiasm. Craig thought about all the people who might be responsible for that, and how he might bring them to some final peace with their lives. Or just the end of their lives; Craig was flexible.

Apollo told him how beautiful he was and for some reason he couldn't get more than annoyed.

It wasn't a life he'd expected. But it wasn't too bad.


End file.
